The strangers ~ 850 words

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TitaniumTi

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This is a continuation of the scene I posted yesterday. I've started with the last paragraph of that post.

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Below, the three bikes slowed. Caleb could see his friends looking about and just had time to think, disbelievingly, he missed, when Andy hurtled backwards off his bike and lay still, half obscured by drifting dust.

No. Caleb stepped forward but he was too late and too far away to save Andy. He was too far away, too, to save Matt and Jake, as that strange, dark weapon lifted again like a fist, to point at them. They were off their bikes now and Matt was walking towards Andy, helmet in hand.

“Watch out! Get down,” he shouted, the force of his voice burning his throat, but he knew it was useless.

He saw the man pause, half lowering his weapon, and turn to look up the hill. He couldn’t have seen the man’s eyes narrow, or the gaze fix intently on his, not at that distance. The weapon swung round, lifting again, to point at him and Caleb flung himself sideways, downwards, into the shallow crevice behind the rock.

He lay there, gasping in the dust. He fought down the urge to cough, and waited. He felt the screech before he heard it. It ripped through him like an itch, like a pain, an indescribable sensation. When it was done, he felt its echoes through his bones and thought, What now? What do I do?

The cutting pain in his back came moments later. It was small in comparison to the wrenching in his bones, but sharp enough to make him reach his hand to it before he realised the danger of being seen. He pulled his hand back hastily, and stared disbelievingly at the blood on his fingers. He closed his eyes, as much against his thoughts as against the sight of blood or the sting of sweat running into his eyes. He got me. But how? How could he get me here, from down there. Then, savagely, What does it matter how? He didn’t really get you. Not like he got Andy. But he will if you just lie here.

He was bunching himself to move, when the sound came again and he froze. In its aftermath he heard another, smaller sound, just ahead of him, and he lifted his head to stare in disbelief at the silver dart half-embedded in the dust in front of him. How did matter, he realised, because there was no way that dart could have landed there, at that angle, unless it came through solid rock. And if it came through solid rock, there was no safety for him where he lay, or anywhere.

He really needed to move. He couldn’t lie there, like a rabbit in its scratch, waiting for the hunter to find him. The next dart might get him, whether he moved or lay still, but death was certain if he didn’t escape.

He slithered forward, keeping low. Small target. Small target. The sound came again but he kept creeping, ignoring the half-felt sting of nettles. He didn’t get me that time, he thought in relief, and kept moving.

Too soon, Caleb reached the end of the rocky ledge and looked in dismay at the open slope ahead, trying to figure the angles and remember the lie of the land. The man might guess where he was but he probably couldn‘t see him behind the rock or he would be dead already. Caleb would be in line of sight of the man as soon as he moved from behind the rock and it was a good twenty metres to the next cover. The length of a cricket pitch, he thought. I can do it. The shots seemed to be coming at regular intervals, so he waited until the next screech built to full intensity then hurtled forward. A cricket pitch didn’t have rocks that twisted his feet or weeds that snagged his ankles but the rush of adrenalin drove him on and he threw himself forward, painfully sliding the last few metres into the gully, just as the ripping sound came again.

He landed hard, feeling his skin tear as he rolled and fell down further levels of rock and clay to land, winded, in the dry dust of a creek bed. Home, he thought, then grimaced because this was no game of cricket and he was not safe at the wicket. It wouldn’t take the man long to run across the slope to the rim of the gully and, when he did, Caleb would be as vulnerable as a mouse in an empty feed drum.

Below him, the gully twisted to the east at a clump of wattles, then jinked sharply downhill again where the bushes ended. If he could get that far, he would be safer. He leapt and ran down the slope, not bothering to keep low. He would be well hidden from the stranger, or not hidden at all. He let gravity and his mass pull him forward, downwards, and he followed the twisting line of the watercourse, looking down, picking his path through gutters and rocks.

He saw Matt’s feet first, half concealed beneath a straggle of lantana, and he was past him before he could stop.
 
Similar comments as before.

I am confused, though - Caleb seems to think his friends are being killed? It seems too much of a leap of imagination for that. Also, being able to recognise a stick as a weapon.

Even then, if true, he lacks the feelings of someone who might be terrified that this same weapon might be used on him. If he has made that realisation, then I would expect him to freeze and hide conflicted between helping his friends and staying alive.

The fact that he's struck by something, and finds blood on his hands, should definitely leave him utterly terrified and in fear for his life. But this does not come across. Instead of delving into the character experience at this critical point, you try and use the character as an observer - he hears the sounds again and think of his friends, and thinks alot about a silver dart. He also remains very rational and clinical in his thinking. I would definitely expect to see more confusion here as well, but not by way of describing every little thing that might not make sense.

The result is that - at this stage - the events feels confused rather than the character. He does not feel under mortal threat because he never really seems to focus on that, but instead on far too many external events.

Also, statements like this: " He couldn’t have seen" underline the problem for me - you are using your character to try and describe everything like an observer and it removes us from his own peril.
 
Just to add - earlier in this scene you set up potential conflicts - for example, Caleb's relationship with the other boys. Now that you reach a dramatic scene, this is where you can pull them in to emphasise the dramatic nature.
 
Again, most of this is good.

I agree with Brian that the average person isn't going to react to an apparent lunatic shooting his friend by calling attention to himself. He might freeze, he might hide, but he won't shout and wave. If he shouts, wouldn't he drop or get into cover at the same time (or first)?

If you want someone to act differently to how the average person would, I think you have to signal it beforehand. Once it's an established part of the character it's no longer an issue.

Do Aussies use "home" in cricket? I liked the analogy, but to me slide and home is baseball and it turned into mixed metaphor. "In" doesn't work either, so I can't think of an easy substitution. "Safe" might be rounders and even baseball, but it's the best compromise I can think of. Talking of Aussie-only language, is a rabbit's scratch a thing for you guys? Never heard of it. That's not necessarily a problem. Just saying in case you think we all call burrows that. Ditto wattles and lantana (which to me at least are acacia and verbena). If you know you're using vernacular to help set place, that's okay. Using too many words that will send most of the English-speaking world running to their dictionaries might be off-putting, but that's the price you pay for being true to your roots.

The mouse in an empty feed drum just felt like a a simile too far.

I'm having a problem with his motivation. Why is he running under gunfire? Andy has been shot and I can understand an instantaneous stupid reaction. But what is he trying to do here?
 
I think we are still in that place of trying to conceal what is; to give the reader some impression of something that might not be. There seems to be some point to having the stranger remain strange to everyone including the reader.

This gives a quality of danger and character of evil that are only enhanced by the over dramatic reaction of Caleb.

The scene itself is very confusing while Caleb's POV seems to be trying to supply information that might be misleading by virtue of the concealment of the stranger to the reader. Caleb seems to be higher than everyone else and to be concealed by lying down I'd think quite high since he also seems far, but that distance is all confusing because he can see more than he should be able to in one sentence and then less than he was able to in the next.

If he can't see the mans eyes very well then he would only see something in the hand maybe raised as if to threaten but not readily identifiable unless the man is holding something he is so familiar with that his eyes register the basic outline and fill in the rest.

When Caleb begins running he seems now lower than I thought in fact I wasn't sure he wouldn't have to climb down a bit. At that point I'm confused about what has happened with his friends and not sure what it means that he flew quickly past Matt's feet.

Sorry if I have all of this wrong, but it is confusing.
 
Thank you all so much for the feedback. It seems that I have a great deal of work to do.

I was tring to write a pared down scene, in order to increase the tension, but I have obviously lost comprehensibility in the process.

Back to the drawing board, I think.
 
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